


On the Teaching of Rodimus

by SparkBeat



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: First Time, M/M, Oral, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Virgin Rodimus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 04:19:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4691846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparkBeat/pseuds/SparkBeat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodimus lets it slip to Rung that despite all the rumors, he's never actually interfaced with <em>anyone</em>.</p><p>Rung is more than happy to teach Rodimus a thing or two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Teaching of Rodimus

Rung settled down on a bench under the observation deck’s domed ceiling, a datapad resting on his lap, and cracked the seal on his lunch. It was always nice to come up here during mid-shift, when there was generally nobody else around, and he could read and relax in peace under the stars.

 

He’d only just put his lips to his cube when the door swished open, and their illustrious co-captain came marching in, snarling and stomping and generally making his ire known. Rung sipped at his energon, peering discretely over the edge at the display on the other side of the room and sighing. So much for that precious peace and quiet.

 

Rodimus kicked at a bench close to the door, hissing and hopping away when the bolted down piece of furniture only served to dent his toe cap. Rung cleared his vocalizer, trying to politely let the fuming mech know he wasn’t alone, and Rodimus nearly fell flat on his aft, helm whipping up fast enough to make them both wince. He straightened from his undignified hunch, letting go of his injured pede and setting it tenderly on the decking.

 

“Hey nerd…um…sorry, didn’t mean to bother you…” Rodimus turned to leave, and Rung was quick to set his ration aside, hopping to his pedes and chasing after the other mech.

 

“Not at all, captain! Is…is something troubling you?” He reached out, servo hovering over Rodimus’ arm, unwilling to initiate contact if the other mech was in no mood.

 

“Nah..it’s nothin’, nerd.” Rodimus waved him off, plastering a big grin on and shrugging, “Just..had to work out some issues with that bench, that’s all.”

 

Rung raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently. He knew Rodimus, too well, it seemed. After only a few moments of prolonged silence, Rodimus started twitching, plating rattling against his protoform as he looked away from Rung, refusing to meet his optics.

 

Another moment, and he groaned, shoulders slumping. “It’s just…stupid slag, really. And I don’t need to talk to a shrink about it!”

 

“Rodimus! I would hope you’d think of me as a friend… I’m not working at the moment, in fact, I was just sitting down to lunch when you came by…sit and talk with me? As a friend?” Rodimus still resisted, chewing on his lip and clearly trying to come up with a reason to refuse the offer.

 

Rung pulled a packet of rust sticks from a compartment and waved them enticingly at the tense mech, and suddenly, Rodimus was all smiles again, snatching the pack from his servo and preceding him to the bench where he’d abandoned his things.

 

Rung stood in front of him, waiting as he made himself comfortable, draping his legs over the side and laying down crossways, taking up nearly all the room. Once he’d stopped squirming, Rung squeezed into the small space left for him between the arm of the bench and Rodimus’ helm. Without a word, he lifted his datapad, and went back to his lunch. Silence was usually the best option with the ex-Prime. Given enough time, he’d work himself up to saying what was bothering him, without needing any poking or prodding. Silence seemed to be his worst enemy.

 

Sure enough, he hadn’t gotten through more than a handful of pages on the case study he was reading before Rodimus tilted his helm back to look up at him and sigh. Loudly.

 

“It’s just…I’m so _tired_ of hearing all the rumors. Walked into Swerve’s today, figuring I’d pass out a couple Rodimus Stars I’d been meaning to award to a couple mechs, right? But Whirl’s in the middle of this crowd, okay? And he just yells out across the room, ‘hey Rodders, need any help polishing that shiny aft of yours? Gotta be getting scuffed up from beth hopping, huh?’…I played it off of course, cause I’m just cool like that, but I _hate_ it!”

 

Rung took a moment to process Rodimus’ rapid-fire mess of words, holding his servo over the flame painted mech’s helm. “May I?” Rodimus shrugged, and Rung bought a little more time as he stroked soothingly over the other mech’s helm.

 

“Truthfully, Rodimus, as much as it upsets you, there’s not much to be done. You can have Ultra Magnus speak to Whirl of course, as that sort of talk _is_ violating multiple points of the Autobot code, but knowing Whirl as we do, it wouldn’t deter him… in the end, as long as _you_ don’t feel bad about who you sleep with, it’s nobot’s business but yours, and you can tell him that, or ignore him… I’m sorry I don’t have anything better to offer you…”

 

“But that’s just _it_! I’ve never slept with anybot!” Rung’s servo paused, for just a nanoklik, while he rechecked his audials. It couldn’t be possible, could it? Rodimus was a well known berth warmer…but if he thought about it, everything had been rumor heard from a friend of a friend who knew a mech…never from a berth partner themselves, bragging about their ‘conquest’…

 

“Yea, I know…hard to believe, I’m still a fraggin’ virgin…” Rodimus grumbled, rolling over to face the back of the bench and hunch in on himself miserably.

 

“Rodimus…” He bit his lip, literally feeling the unstable footing he was on. The wrong words could seriously damage Rodimus’ self esteem at this point, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He traced the pointed cheek flare presented to him, and reached around to rest his other servo on the captain’s arm.

 

“I don’t want pity, nerd…I just…I just never got around to it, s’all.” He grumbled, pushing away and sitting up. His plating slicked flat to his protoform, tight and trembling, and it was all Rung could do to not pull the larger mech into a hug and try and smooth away the tension. He’d never seen him so miserable and self conscious…not even during his downward spiral when Drift had been banished.

 

Speaking of Drift, he was honestly surprised that with all the time they’d spent together pre-Overlord, and the way Drift downright worshipped Rodimus, that they’d never in all that time fallen into the berth together. He wisely kept that little observation to himself, and focused his optics on the middle distance in front of him to keep from looking at Rodimus, who seemed to grow more uncomfortable by the second.

 

“We’re friends, right Rodimus?” He finally settled on asking, playing with the datapad in his servos for lack of anything better to do with them.

 

“Yea, I guess we are. You didn’t shoot me after I used you for spark eater bait…that’s real friendship right there.” Rodimus chuckled at himself, loosening his tense posture slightly and pushing up into a sitting position with his knees pressed tight together and his pedes spread wide. He dropped his elbows to his knees and leaned on his servos, staring at the floor.

 

“I suppose that’s true,” Rung laughed, pulling his glasses off and keeping an eye on the other mech from the corner of his optic, “So know that I offer this as a friend, and not in a professional or piteous capacity.” Rodimus tilted his helm, wringing his servos together. “I would be honored to be your first… if you’d like.” He smiled down at his servos at the slack jawed expression on Rodimus’ face.

 

“Wha- I…what? Like, you’d wanna frag me?”

 

“I’d like to interface with you, yes. You’re a very attractive mech, Rodimus, and I’d very much enjoy spending the night with you, if you’re amenable, of course.”

 

Rodimus was quiet, staring at him, and for the first time since he’d met him, Rung couldn’t get a feel of his EMF. It was drawn up tight under his plating, and Rung had to focus on keeping calm as he waited for a response. Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he’d read him right, and worry that he’d insulted him was creeping into his processor.

 

Then one tentative servo inched close, hanging just over Rung’s carefully still servos, and he was more than happy to reach up and link their fingers together. Finally turning to face him again, he was near blinded by the smile that greeted him, the wide, hopeful optics beneath that golden crest that made his spark warm a bit. He tried to remember the last time he’d seen such innocence in a mech that wasn’t Tailgate, and drew a blank.

 

So instead, he lifted his free servo, and cupped the side of Rodimus’ face to draw him down into a kiss.

 

He’d give him credit, Rodimus was an… _eager_ student. He pressed up into the kiss, sliding his lips over Rodimus’ and guiding him to slow the pace. Tilting his helm just slightly, their mouths slotted together perfectly, and he flicked his glossa over the line of Rodimus’ mouth in light, teasing motions designed to entice him to open up.

 

He did, slowly, uncertainly, and Rung was more than happy to dive in, coaxing his glossa out to play with his. Rodimus’ plating was already warm, bordering on hot, and he moaned against Rung’s mouth, the servo not tangled with his tentatively brushing his hip. Rung moaned, breaking the kiss with a smile and a thin string of oral solvents. He arched up into the soft, uncertain touches, trying to convey without words how very welcome his servos would be on his frame.

 

When Rodimus still hesitated, panting against his open mouth, he reached out and pressed down on the minutely trembling servo, firming the touch against his plating and smiling.

 

“You are more than welcome to touch, Rodimus. In fact, I encourage it.” He said, pressing another, quicker kiss to those heated lips and then rising to his pedes.

 

“Wha-?” The co-captain looked up at him with dim optics, his confusion nearly unheard over the whine of his cooling fans.

 

“Shall we take this somewhere more private?” He held out his servos, grabbing hold of Rodimus’ when they came within reach, and tugging him to his pedes.

 

“Huh? Oh! Oh yea… um, I guess so, right…cause, cause we can’t just do that _here_ , Mags would have a glitch fit…heh…” Rung felt it best not to mention how absolutely adorable the brightly colored mech was when he was flustered and blushing. Instead, he subspaced his datapad and grabbed the remainder of his energon with one servo, keeping hold of Rodimus’ servo with the other and squeezing it encouragingly.

 

“Only if you would like to, Captain.” Rodimus preened at the title, puffing up like a cyberpeacock, and Rung hid his smile behind the lip of his glass, draining the rest of the fuel in one long pull. “My offer has no expiration date. If you’d rather wait, or take things slowly, I’m perfectly fine with that. We move at _your_ pace.”

 

~~~~~

 

Rodimus had ended up leading him back to his quarters, and what had started at a pace so fast Rung had trouble keeping up had slowed down further and further the closer they got, till Rodimus was all but dragging his pedes in the corridor leading to his door. Rung pulled him to a halt just before he could input his door code, and squeezed both of his servos tightly.

 

“Rodimus, I hope you aren’t feeling obligated in any way to do this. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable at _all._ If you changed your mind, or you want to wait, or find someone else, I’m _not_ going to be upset with you.” Rodimus shook his helm vehemently at the suggestion, pulling away to open his door with a wide, put on grin on his face.

 

“Nah, why would I change my mind, nerd?” Rung rolled is optics behind his glasses at the nickname, but wisely said nothing. “Unless…you’ve changed _your_ mind?”

 

“No! Of course not, Rodimus. I told you this would be an honor, and I meant it. But my focus is on _you_. Your comfort and pleasure are my number one priority, do you understand?” He let himself be pulled inside the captain’s quarters, rooms which he’d adamantly refused to give up to Megatron, and which he had painted garishly bright colors just to encourage the co-captain to look elsewhere for residency. Rung had been in here before of course, a few times, to check on Rodimus when he was at his lowest, but he’d never gotten past the receiving room.

 

Now, Rodimus pulled him though, obviously focused on the end goal of the berth room. Rung was floored by the massive size of the berth taking up the majority of the room, and his processor pulled up thread after thread after thread of the things he could do to the other mech in this berth.

 

But first, he needed to reassure Rodimus, who was hovering now, twisting his servos and chewing on his lip.

 

He pulled himself up onto the edge of the berth, sitting with his legs dangling over the sides, and pulled Rodimus in-between his spread thighs to kiss again. The berth put him at the perfect height, and he let his servos rest on trim hips, pulling him closer and letting him feel just how warm Rung was getting. Rodimus moaned, plating twitching in his grip, and leaned forward on his servos placed on the berth on either side of Rung.

 

He grinned against Rodimus’ mouth, wrapping his legs around Rodimus waist and leaning back, urging him to climb up onto the berth with him. It took a small bit of rearranging, with Rung scooting back on the berth to make room for him, but the end result was worth the effort. Rodimus leaned over him on his servos and knees, with Rung’s legs wrapped around his waist and his servos cupping the other mech’s face, guiding him into kiss after kiss after kiss.

 

“Rung…” Rodimus pulled back, gasping for air, “I…I don’t know what I’m doing…” His reminder was painfully honest, and Rung was quick to soothe away the uncertainty in the other mech’s frame and field alike by arching up against him, pressing their frames together and running his servos over the leading edge of the golden spoiler.

 

“You’re doing _wonderfully_ , Captain.” He purred, nipping at that open mouth and then soothing away any sting with his glossa, “Can’t you feel how hot I am for you already? You’re a quick study, and I have a particular fondness for kisses, and being covered by a larger frame.” He grinned against Rodimus’ cheek when the other mech’s fans kicked up another notch at the admission. But despite that, he didn’t lean down for another kiss, and Rung leaned up on his elbows, watching the other mech carefully.

 

“Rodimus?”

 

“You’ll…you’ll tell me if I do something you don’t like, right? Or if I hurt you? Only, I’m so much bigger than you, and you’re a non-combatant, and so small, and -“

 

“Rodimus!” He sat up, scooting out from under his shadow and guiding him to sit back on his knees. “Vent with me, Rodimus, in and out, that’s it.” He waited until Rodimus’ venting was under control before continuing. “I will of course let you know if there’s anything that makes me uncomfortable, I assure you. And I want you to do the same for me.”

 

“But-“

 

“No buts! What did I tell you in the hall, Captain?” He waited until Rodimus repeated his words in the hall before continuing. “ _Exactly_. My focus is _you_. I’m not going to be hurt if you tell me something isn’t working for you, or is making you uncomfortable. I’m going to be _appreciative_ , because I can’t figure out what will rev you up if you don’t give me any indications. Okay?”

 

Rodimus nodded, biting his lip again and reaching out for Rung. He leaned into the touch with a smile, dimming his optics as that one tentative servo traced along his audial and tweaked his antennae.

 

“I’m…I’m not sure I like being on the top…” Rodimus said haltingly, EMF tinging with shame and apology, “At least…not yet? I don’t know what to do with my servos, and…just, can we try something else?”

 

“Of course, Rodimus!” He had wondered about the mech’s preferences, and wasn’t surprised to hear him say he’d rather not be in the position that was most perceived as ‘in charge’. A quick switch of places, and Rung had Rodimus leaning back against the wall while he straddled his lap, servos playing at the tender wires at the juncture of his collar fairing while he pressed increasingly heated kisses to the suddenly far more relaxed mech’s mouth.

 

When his fans had cycled back up to their previous speed, and his plating was warming again, Rung shifted his focus, trailing kisses down his neck, suckling on the cables beneath his lips and enjoying the way his frame heated at Rodimus’ whining and moaning. Lowering himself further, shifting so he was kneeling between the other mech’s spread legs now, he nibbled and sucked on the edges of plating, tickling at the sensitive seems of his abdominal ridges and exvented gusts of hot air over pulsing biolights as he went.

 

Rodimus’ hips twitched when he rested a servo against his thigh and pressed a kiss to his scorching panel. He looked up the length of Rodimus’ frame, quirking his lips up in a grin and mouthing at the panel when he caught sight of the other mech’s face. Slack mouth, flushed cheeks, dim optics, the sheen of coolant beading up on his plating, it all came together into an unbelievably attractive look for the normally energetic mech.

 

Beneath his mouth, the panel slid back with a snap, and he got his first good look at his array. His spike panel was still irised shut, and Rung knew that beneath it, he could anticipate finding a standard seal still in place. The thin mesh would bulge out from the pressure of Rodimus’ pressurizing spike, something that made Rung’s mouth water just thinking about it. He knew many mechs preferred experienced partners, for a number of reasons, but he had a fondness for the inexperienced and innocent. Teaching them all the pleasures their frames could give and receive was a unique experience, and one he had no shame in admitting he enjoyed. The closed panel was hot against his glossa, and he drew little circles on the surface, slicking and shining the small platelets in oral solvents.

 

“Oh _slag_ , Ri-Rung!” Rodimus whimpered, hips jerking at the unfamiliar new sensations on parts of him that had never before been touched by another mech. Rung blew across the sheen of lubricants, and when the cover twisted back, he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the mesh seal beneath, suckling and licking at the material, warming it up and weakening it as he felt the head of his spike pressing against his glossa from the other side.

 

Pulling back, he pressed a finger up against the slight outward bulge, and pushed carefully in. Rodimus gasped, biting his lip, as the pressure against his spike got firmer, and Rung was quick to pop the weak spot in the center, stroking the now exposed spike beneath to keep the sting from Rodimus’ processor. He yelped, servos jerking up to grip at Rung’s shoulders, hips bucking beneath his servos. Smiling at the positive reaction in his field, he carefully fit another fingertip into the housing, pressed against the sides, and twisted. The little ring holding the seal in place unlocked, and he set it aside, out of sight as he leaned in and swallowed the head of the spike rising up out of it’s housing. Mostly red, with splashes of orange, and yellow biolights running up and down the shaft, it was perfectly proportioned and matched to its owner’s frame, and just large enough to stretch Rung’s mouth comfortably.

 

Rodimus’ servos drifted from his shoulders to his helm, flexing around his audials as he swallowed around the head of the spike nudging the back of his intake. He reached up with one servo to still the twitching fingers on his audial, and traced the rim of his valve with the other. Sliding a single finger through the slick lips, teasing and tickling the fat yellow nub nestled between valve and spike, he hummed around his mouthful. Rodimus came undone beneath him, thrashing and shouting, the sensory input too much to deal with all at once.

 

Rung knew he could feel his first overload coiling tight behind his spike housing, knew it was overwhelming when he started to whine, trying to pull away, unsure of what his sensor net was telling him even though he knew academically what an overload was. He pulled off his spike with a pop, licking his lips and smearing the bit of fluids his spike had already started leaking. Sitting up, he used the servo not occupied with his node to pump his spike, keeping him primed for his first overload.

 

“Ru~ung…” He wasn’t sure whether he could classify that as a whine, a whimper, or a sob, but he hummed in acknowledgement either way, and leaned up to kiss his tense jaw, an awkward stretch to be sure with his lack of height. Rodimus hunched down, curling his back strut and holding onto Rung’s helm for dear life, kissing him with all the passion and lack of experience he had in him.

 

“Let go, Rodimus. Don’t fight it.” He instructed, picking up the pace with the servo around his spike. The frame beneath him, colored like flame and now as hot as one as well, tensed, every cable winding tight as he arched up off the berth. Mouth open on a wordless shout of surprise, his optics offlined completely as his first overload tore through him, painting Rung’s servo and his own abdominal armor with streaks of fluid.

 

Rodimus slumped back on the berth with a groan, dimly onlining his optics and looking down his frame at Rung. He smiled, twisting his wrist and drawing a moan from him at the stimulation on his overload sensitive spike.

 

“Is…is that it?” Rodimus finally asked, gasping for cool air around nearly every word.

 

“Hmmm? It can be, I suppose, if you’d like. You’ve still got one seal left to remove, but any mech can help you with that of course.” He sat back, removing both servos from Rodimus’ array, and he didn’t miss the little whine that provoked.

 

“No, nonono, I mean…you went to so much trouble already, surely you’d like to spike me? I mean, it’s the least I can do!” Rung frowned at the wording, fixing Rodimus with a Very Serious look.

 

“You don’t owe me anything, Rodimus. Never feel like you owe _anybot_ the use of your frame for _any_ reason.” He’d seen the results of that mind set more than a few times, dragging themselves into his little clinic back before the war, run down, broken, mistrusting of every bot and every thing. He never wanted to see anyone, and especially not this innocent side of Rodimus, fall into that pit.

 

“I know…” He shrugged, looking away to the wall beside the berth and scratching at his cheek. “I just…don’t you want to? Spike me, I mean?”

 

Rung’s stern expression softened, and he guided Rodimus back to look at him with a servo on his cheek, “Oh Rodimus, of course I would. But I would also not be adverse to _you_ spiking _me_. As I’ve said, this is about what _you_ want.”

 

“Which one feels better?” Rung couldn’t quite control the little bark of laughter that prompted, and immediately leaned up to kiss away the frown on the other mech’s face.

 

“It’s two entirely separate sensations, Rodimus. And it’s different for each mech. You may find you like one or the other more, which is absolutely natural, or you may have no personal preference. Myself, I enjoy either fairly equally. Especially with someone of your size, the stretch of my valve to accommodate your spike would be incredibly intense, and the stretch is my favorite part. Finding out how far I can be made to go, to fit my partner, it’s an exhilarating feeling like no other.” Rung didn’t feel it necessary to share the time he’d allowed himself to be passed around among the Wreckers, the feeling of being stretched around those massive spikes, how his valve calipers hadn’t been able to reset to factory tensity for nearly _two_ days. That had been long before he’d started entrance interviews for the team, and had sadly been put to a stop once it had become part of his job description. Mixing personal and professional lives was against his very spark, ethics board or no ethics board.

 

“Of course,” He continued, pulling himself out of that little memory with a whine of cooling fans kicking up, “Having your spike surrounding by the grip of a set of valve calipers is often processor blanking in itself. Having your partner come apart around you in overload is often enough to push you over the edge yourself. The overload you just had? Made so much better with a warm, wet valve clenching around you, milking you for every last drop of fluid you have.” Rodimus shivered, spike twitching and slowly starting to repressurize between them.

 

“I… they both sound awesome…You choose?”

 

“Oh no, dear Rodimus. You choose.” He smiled, kissing his cheek and leaning back to crouch between red thighs, resting his servos on his knees. “Of course, this by no means has to be a one-time event. I’d be more than happy to continue your… lessons…for as long as you’d like.”

 

Rodimus was quiet for a long moment, absentmindedly trailing his fingers through the mess on his stomach and smearing it into seams and dips in his plating. Finally, he shifted, legs falling open just that much wider, and reached for Rung with both servos.

 

“Spike me?”

 

Rung smiled, kissing the fingers sticky with fluid. “My pleasure.” He said, ignoring the grabby servos in favor of trailing back down to the juncture of his thighs. Thick, puffy valve lips, shiny with lubricants and warming still than the rest of his frame, parted for his fingers to reveal the tight little valve ring hidden beneath. Rodimus twitched, sensors that had never been stimulated firing at Rung’s touch and sending tactile feedback racing up his tac-net in pulses strong enough to make him flinch.

 

He just made a wordless little noise in his vocalizer, reassuring and wanting all at once, as he leaned forward and touched the twitchy little ring with his glossa.

 

“Hnng!” Rodimus’ hips raised up, but Rung had anticipated it, moving with the motion instead of getting hit in the face. “Sorry, sorry!”

 

“Quite alright, Rodimus. Sensitivity is to be expected. Are you okay?”

 

“Yea..I’m fine, nerdling. Um…continue?” Rung smiled and obeyed, pressing the tip of his glossa past the rim of platelets, tapping at the bumps of sensor nodes just beyond. It wasn’t long before Rodimus was shifting beneath him, servos playing with his crest and tweaking his antennae while he moaned and whined and whimpered at the playful teasing.

 

Lubricants trickled out of his valve, and down Rung’s chin. He switched to suckling on the pulsing yellow exterior node, and ran one finger around the rim of the valve. Rodimus was quiet, and Rung looked up from under his eyebrows to see him with one servo pressed to his mouth, optics dark and face flushed.

 

“Rodimus?” He spoke directly against his node, and orange hips twitched, but his response was muffled by the servo pressed tight to his face.

 

“Rodimus, I won’t continue if you keep that up…I want to know you’ll say something if I make you uncomfortable.” He pulled back a bit, only just barely hiding the smirk that threatened to escape when Rodimus whimpered and pushed his hips up, trying to chase after the retreating touches.

 

“Not…not uncomfortable, nerd…” Rodimus finally whined, removing the servo from his mouth and wrapping his fingers around his collar fairing instead.

 

“Are you sure?” Ok, so he was being a bit of a tease. Rodimus was a thing of beauty, flushed and frustrated, spread out beneath him and half mindless to the multitude of new sensations he was being put through. He couldn’t think of a single mech with the willpower to resist _that_.

 

“ _Please!_ ” It was half plea, half snarl, and Rung tilted his helm, pressing a kiss to the inside of one thigh instead.

 

“Please, what, Captain?” Rodimus whined again, trying to guide Rung’s mouth back to his array without words. Rung just smiled against the warm plating of his thigh, resisting the urgings of the servos on his helm, the pull of his legs around his back. “What is it you want from me, Rodimus? You only have to ask.” _Oh_ the dirty look that got him! He was grateful for the barrier of his glasses, to hide at least _some_ of his amusement at Rodimus’ frustration.

 

“You want my mouth?” He supplied when Rodimus seemed incapable of finding words for his vocalizer. Mutely, gratefully, the other mech nodded, biting his lip and lifting his hips in encouragement. He mouthed at the dip where plates met on the inside of his thigh, and chuckled. “But you already have it, captain…”

 

“N-not there!” Rodimus said, frustration mounting in his field. Rung tweaked his nub with one finger, rubbing soft, lazy circles into the heated protomesh while he placed another kiss at the sensitive gap where thigh meets hip.

 

“Here?” Rodimus gasped, shook his helm, rocked into Rung’s servo. Rung didn’t allow the movement to alter his touch, drawing back when his hips rose and resuming when he dropped back to the berth with a clang and a groan.

 

“No!”

 

“Well, then, dear captain,” And oh how Rodimus preened any time he heard that title. Rung was more than happy to stroke the other mech’s ego a bit, and something as simple as the respect he rightfully deserved was no hardship to him. He switched the soft touch on his node from finger to thumb, pressing down firmly, the texture of the mesh of his built-in mic a drastic change that had Rodimus’ optics flaring. “Where is it you want me to go? Hmm?” Another teasing little circle, another whine from his vocalizer.

 

“M-my array! Ple _ase_!” His plea was choked off in a shout when Rung scraped the bundle of sensors with his dentae, rolling the little nub carefully between them and flicking his glossa against it. Rodimus jerked, pedes scraping against the berth, legs tightening near to the point of painful around Rung’s frame. Ignoring the slight discomfort of the band of pressure around his back, he continued to flick the nub in his mouth, suckling and slurping as oral solvents pooled in his mouth. While Rodimus was suitably distracted, he snuck the servo not currently pushing on a thigh to try and give himself some room between their frames, sliding one finger in and stroking along the sensor rich front wall of his valve.

 

Calipers cycled down tight around his finger, all but locking it in place. Rung found it difficult to move, and settled on stroking the sensors under his finger, coaxing the calipers to slowly, ever so slowly, release their death grip. Rodimus’ servos on his helm flexed and stroked, and when he caught a particularly sensitive bundle of sensors in one of his crest flares, he moaned, loudly, and nudged his helm up against Rodimus’ suddenly hesitant servos encouragingly.

 

Rodimus seemed to relax further into his touches, with something now to focus on for his own servos, and set to work tweaking and stroking and pinching at the raised flares. Rung shuddered under his touch, his panel pinging insistently at his H.U.D. to open. He dismissed the request, turning back to the task at servo. It wouldn’t be much longer before he could spike Rodimus properly, and his array could just wait a few more minutes.

 

When his valve had relaxed enough to give him some space, Rung pulled back, and pressed two fingers in together. Rodimus arched up beneath him, servos tightening on his flares and sending sparks skittering over his tac-net. Pressing both fingers in as deeply as he could go, palm pressing flat against his array, he just barely managed to touch the metal ring holding the mesh of his seal in place. This wouldn’t be the first time he found himself grateful that his partner wasn’t any larger than they were. It was far less pleasurable for those who had to have their seal pierced by their partner instead.

 

Pinching his node between his dentae and sucking, pulling his attention sharply away from the fingers in his valve, he was quick to press up against the edges of the ring and twist. The seal popped free of its contact points, and Rodimus yelped, bucking up against Rung’s mouth and away from his fingers all in one. Rung drew the flexible ring of soft metal and mesh from his valve carefully, and set it aside as he soothed the sting away with his glossa.

 

Sliding two fingers back into the tight heat of his valve, he stroked at sensors again till calipers started flexing in the rhythmic tell-tale precursor to an overload. Rodimus abandoned his flares to slap both servos over his mouth, and Rung let go of the tense thigh under his palm to stroke his neglected spike.

 

Rodimus twisted and turned under him, and he slid a third finger alongside the others, curling them up into the cluster of sensors along that front wall.

 

::Overload for me, captain?:: He sent over shortwave, and it was as though he’d been waiting for permission. All at once, his valve spiraled down tight against his fingers, and he moaned and whimpered and shouted his way through another overload, adding to the mess on his armor, spike twitching and jumping in Rung’s servo.

 

Manual override protocols finally failing, he let his panel slide aside, spike pressurizing up out of its housing as soon as it was clear. Rising to his knees, he leaned up over Rodimus’ scalding frame, mindless of the mess, and kissed all around that open mouth, enjoying the dazed expression on his faceplates as he slid his spike against plump, energon warmed folds, spreading the mess of lubricants between them.

 

“Hnng….Rung…” Rodimus wrapped his arms around Rung’s neck, pulling him into a lazy kiss. Rung was surrounded by the heat their frames were both trying to dispel, vents wide open and fans whining in high gear.

 

“Yes, Rodimus?” A kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his jaw, working his way down to the small space of exposed neck cables above his collar fairing. Rodimus tipped his helm back at Rung’s nudging insistence, and flexed his fingers against Rung’s back plates when he started to suck and nip at the sensitive bundles of cables and tubing.

 

“Spike me already?” Rung laughed, coming back up to kiss the smile stretching Rodimus’ faceplates.

 

“It would be my pleasure.” He breathed into the space between them, angling his hips on the next up-slide and pushing past the relaxed outer ring, the pleats of his valve lining parting around his spike.

 

Rodimus clenched around him, mouth open on one long, drawn out moan as Rung slid in to the hilt. Despite his urgings to move, Rung stayed still for a moment, twisting the berth sheets in his servos as he vented, focusing on not overloading then and there. Between the wanton display Rodimus was putting on, writhing in the sheets and clenching tight around his spike, and how revved up he already was from the long, drawn out process of removing the other mech’s seals, his overload was close. Very close.

 

“Rodimus, if you don’t stop that, I’m not going to last very long at all.” Rung chuckled, nipping at a line of biolighting along his chest plate.

 

“S’okay, nerd…” Rodimus gasped, bucking up against him and digging his fingers into the wheels on his backpack.

 

Rung hadn’t lied. Angling his hips so his spike rubbed against that prominent cluster of sensors that he’d been teasing with his fingers, it wasn’t long at all before his pace started to falter. Leaning back, he managed to get a servo between them, rubbing against Rodimus’ outer node. Rodimus reached down with one servo, taking his spike in hand and pumping it frantically, vents stuttering as his overload washed over him, whiting out his optics with a massive flare and drawing his spinal strut into an arch off the berth as his spike striped his chassis with fluids.

 

The tight clutch of his valve around his spike pulled Rung over the edge right after him, and he gasped, slumping forward and pinning Rodimus’ servo around his spike between them as it felt like his entire transfluid tank emptied out, filling his valve and sliding out around his spike when there was no room left.

 

They lay glued together like that for long, quiet minutes, only interrupted by the click and whine of fans, and the pinging of cooling metal.

 

Finally, Rodimus started to giggle.

 

Rung looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and pushing at his EMF field with his own, concerned he’d hurt or upset the other mech. Instead, he was overwhelmed with the _relief/happiness/disbelief_ of Rodimus’ field, and couldn’t help joining in with a wash of _pride/happiness/compassion_ , snickering into Rodimus’ chest plate.

 

“So…” Rodimus drew the single syllable out into four, once he’d gotten his laughter under control.

 

“So?” Rung rolled off of him, pulling cleaning cloths and a spray cleanser out of his compartments, intent on checking for any damage before he allowed Rodimus to leave the berth. Better safe than sorry, after all.

 

“So…maybe we could do that again sometime? If you want, I mean.” Rodimus asked in a rush, face flushing again. This time, though, he didn’t look away, keeping optic contact as he waited for Rung’s response.

 

Rung smiled, spraying the cloth and starting to wipe up the mess on Rodimus’ plating. The other mech jerked, the cool spray like liquid nitrogen on his heated plating. “Sorry…and of course, I look forward to a repeat performance.”

 

“Awesome! Uh… I mean, yea, definitely. That’d be awesome…” Rung rolled his optics behind his glasses, taking a small bit of revenge in the form of the cold cleanser against Rodimus’ array. Rodimus shrieked, then coughed, trying to hide his embarrassment. “Could we…maybe do both…next time? I mean, I wanna try being the one _doing_ the spiking, but _Primus_ , I like being on the receiving end!”

 

Rung just smiled again, nodding along to Rodimus’ chatter as he finished cleaning up. He’d be more than willing to satisfy Rodimus’ curiosity. As many times as it took.

**Author's Note:**

> A 6k+ word elaboration on [this post](http://the-sparkbeat.tumblr.com/post/127671492883/so-my-new-aesthetic-is-apparently-first-time-bots).
> 
> I felt the judgement of the church that sits all but in my side yard as I sat working on this on a Sunday morning. :D
> 
> S'not that good, but my brain just kinda said eff it at the end, sorry!


End file.
